Calm
by Selvah
Summary: After defeating the Golem and saving Warfang from certain destruction, the young dragons and their dragonfly companion are in need of rest and recovery ― one of them from her mental scars in particular. What actually happened during the night in Warfang? Midquel to DotD, one-shot.


_A/N: I would like to thank Darkness Oversoul for beta-ing and helping with the dialogue, and everyone who encouraged me to write. Hope it's worth it. :p  
_

_Happens during Dawn of the Dragon. Takes place in Warfang after Spyro, Cynder and Sparx' rendezvouz with the Guardians._

**Calm**

The sun cast its last dying rays across the horizon as two young dragons, one purple and one black, wearily padded the streets of Warfang. Already the first stars twinkled in the clear and darkening sky. Night was quickly approaching, lengthening the shadows cast by the buildings and structures that passed by as the two dragons went, and eliciting a yawn from the purple one's direction. A closer inspection however revealed the source of the voice to be the yellow orb of light that seemed to rest on the dragon's head.

"Are we there yet?" came the tired voice of Sparx, still thick with the yawn that he had let out a moment earlier.

Cynder merely shot him a half-hearted glare, and then resumed looking in the direction they took as they made their way towards the accommodation that they had been granted. She had only grown partially accustomed to the dragonfly's impatient quips in the few days they had travelled together, and he was still getting to her sometimes.

"We're supposed to know it when we see it," replied Spyro with a level voice that didn't betray any jadedness. "It should be the first building once we turn down the next street."

His surprising patience with his foster brother never ceased to amaze Cynder. She regarded Spyro with a mixture of admiration and pity as she imagined what he must have been put through in his time as a hatchling in the swamp. To never be given a moment alone from the annoying chatterbox of a dragonfly… Cynder would have smirked if she hadn't felt a headache developing from just imagining it. Just then, however, her train of thought took the inevitable turn for the worse when she recalled her _own_ childhood. What little posture she had in her padding quickly disappeared as her head drooped and her muzzle took to pointing towards the stone paving.

Spyro happened to notice this. He had seen it occur several times throughout their journey, and now, after brief hesitation, he opened his maw to finally voice his concern, but didn't make it any further than that.

"It better be. After taking down old hot-head, it's only natural for people to give extra nice treatment to you two: mighty conquerors of the Golem! Saviours of the city! Rescuers of the―" Sparx' tirade was cut off so quickly by the look Spyro gave him that for a fleeting moment, Cynder thought that the unlikely duo shared a hidden connection between their minds.

Their treading continued in momentary silence as they approached the junction in the street. Although Spyro still had his mind on Cynder, he opted to deal with the distraction first. He sighed and started speaking at length.

"You've seen the state of the city, Sparx. All of the moles are needed to help deal with the aftermath. If they or the Guardians were able to send an escort with us I'm sure they―"

"Yeah, _yeah,_ we get it hero boy," cut in Sparx; this time Spyro being the one who got interrupted. "Now stop jabbering and get a _move_ on; you're not going to lose any of that extra weight by exercising your jaw muscles. Haven't you seen the big yellow guy?" asked the dragonfly, referring to the talkative Electric Guardian as he stretched his tiny arms wide for emphasis.

Spyro scowled and grumbled listlessly under his breath, but then he heard the black dragoness giggle, and his expression quickly changed to that of shame and awkwardness; he was even blushing.

"…Though I imagine you can only eat so many dictionaries before it too starts showing on your waist," Sparx added as an afterthought, completely unaware of the development that his earlier line had caused.

Spyro dared to glance to his side where Cynder was padding, and saw the dragoness's green eyes twinkling in merriment as she smiled at him. He found himself quickly averting his gaze, but coyly returned the smile from the corner of his mouth.

At least she seemed happy now, as if she had gotten things off of her mind that had been bothering her a moment ago. Coming to this realisation, Spyro felt his mood lighten up as well, and he continued on with slightly more spring in his step as they approached their destination.

* * *

Soft, barely audible snoring filled the otherwise quiet room, seeming to emanate from a small pillow that rested on top of an oaken bookcase. Little other furniture decorated the room that Spyro and Cynder had taken residence in, resting two tail lengths apart from each other.

In a normal situation the Guardians would have given each of them their own room, but circumstances, namely the chain suspending them together, prevented such an arrangement. Moreover, it was how things had been since their escape from the catacombs, so not much was thought of it.

Sparx, of course, hadn't taken the arrangement well: at first, he demanded that the _evil she-dragon_ be sent to sleep in her _own_ room. However, it might just have been his exhaustion because much to the Spyro and Cynder's surprise, the dragonfly relented after a few more increasingly tired arguments, and soon dozed off on the pillow, leaving the two dragons at peace, or what little of it they could feel in their current situation.

One thing they did know for certain was that the next day would be a long one, and that they'd have to get up with the sun. Still, with all that was happening, they weren't surprised to find themselves lying awake, hard pressed to get any sleep.

Cynder especially seemed to be in deep mental turmoil. With the latest developments – from Spyro's desperate journey to find her to the attack on the cheetah village and the brutal siege of Warfang – she now had even more things competing for the attention of her consciousness. With her subconsciousness already occupied and full of the stuff of nightmares, she found herself enveloped in an unyielding aura of sadness, like a black rain cloud constantly hanging heavy above her, clamouring with distant thunder, and all but soaking her in the anguish she so tried to bottle up.

Unbeknownst to Cynder, Spyro had been observing her from the corner of his vision for a while now, musing things of his own. It was the first time after they'd broken out of the crystal that they weren't busy with something, be it hectically making their way towards freedom or a person or a place in dire need of help. This relative peace had allowed him to see things he'd been too distracted to consciously ponder before.

They both had grown in age and body in the three years that they had been trapped. This was apparently made possible by the time crystal slowly dissolving around their bodies, providing them with nutrition while simultaneously freeing up space for growth. It was these signs of development that Spyro was now noticing in proper.

Formerly both of their bodies had been more round and similar to each other in proportions, as was normal for younglings. Now however, they were taking on notable differences. While their wings had grown quite equally, Spyro's body had gained slight bulk, while Cynder's was starting to take the shape of her full-grown self, becoming sleeker and streamlined. This made her a faster and more agile flier, but also left her weaker in the power department. In addition, her horns had grown significantly from the stubs they had earlier been, now beginning to gracefully arch behind her head. It all contributed to the dignified yet dangerous being about her.

Spyro then blinked a few times to end his reverie and return to the present time.

He was a bit of an oblivious dragon when it came to recognizing signs such as the ones Cynder now exhibited as she sulked, but in this instance, he was easily picking up the indications of the dragoness's predicament. His mind was a tangle of thoughts and intentions, and he quietly considered the situation for a while, contemplating on what would be the best course of action for him to take. In the end however, he simply decided to go for broke.

Cynder heard quiet rustling to her side, and instinctively veered her head to face the source. She had been so deep in dark thoughts that ― for a moment ― she had all but forgotten about her purple companion. It was with surprise, then, that she regarded him approaching her, and only after it faded away did she notice the genuine look of concern that he held in his eyes, sitting down a forearm's length away from her.

An awkward silence took place as she then resumed staring at her paws, wondering what was to come. It was thankfully left brief, being soon broken by Spyro.

"You know… Back in my days as one of the dragonflies in the swamp, if someone had told me that I'd one day be guest to a huge city built for dragons by moles…" he ended his sentence short and let a slightly shy and awkward smile speak the rest.

Cynder appeared momentarily sidetracked from her thoughts as she processed what the purple had said; just the effect he had been hoping for.

"…Yeah," she ultimately sighed, "I know what you mean. Our visit could've been timed a little better though," she said, vaguely nodding towards the window behind them in an obvious reference to the mess the Dragon City was now.

"You could say that," Spyro admitted with a thoughtful look, "but isn't it good that we _did_ come? I mean, had we not stopped the Golem…" he said, shuddering from the mere thought of it. Nothing would have stood in way of the utter and complete destruction of the last known safe haven for their kind.

"…But let's not talk about that. We're safe, and that's all that matters now," he added, not giving the picture any chance of developing further, but not making it in time before a shadow had already passed over the black dragoness's face.

"I guess so," Cynder finally replied, but with a sad, absent-minded tone that even Spyro couldn't miss.

Another silence descended over the young dragons, as Cynder resumed her brooding and the purple dragon looked at her with a welling sense of pity, wanting to ease her mental burden but not knowing how to.

After a while he sighed inwardly and gave up, taking on the approach he initially planned.

"Is… Is everything all right Cynder?" asked Spyro, trying to hide excess concern from his voice.

The caring tone in the purple dragon's voice took Cynder off guard, but she still tried not to show it. Instead, she gathered herself, slowly turning to him and preparing to give him the instinctive reply: _it's nothing_, but then she saw the determination and worry that reflected in his amethyst eyes, and wavered.

This brief hesitation was enough sign that something _was_ indeed wrong with her. Cynder realized it herself; she could no longer believably deny it even if she wanted to. She wanted to slap herself for the slip-up, but concentrated instead on dealing with the situation.

"I don't want to bother you with it, Spyro," she eventually said, frowning and avoiding eye contact, "It's my problem."

"Cynder, please," the purple pleaded. "I don't like seeing you in pain. It hurts me." His voice was more on edge now, the expression on his face matching. He almost sounded desperate. "Just talk to me about it. Stop holding it in, whatever it is," he said, though he thought he had a good idea of what it was.

"_Please_," he finished in little more than a whisper.

The black dragoness took in the outburst, staring at him with wide eyes, before looking away with a faint dusting of crimson on her cheeks.

Perhaps her plight wasn't as deep as it seemed.

She was a level-headed dragoness and knew that being miserable and blaming oneself for everything wouldn't change things for the better. Still, the sheer gravity of the events that had happened so recently weighed heavy and held a very real threat of utterly crushing beneath what was left of her mental integrity. But even so, there was at least _someone_ who wanted to support her. Despite all that had happened, Spyro still seemed to stand adamant and not give up on her.

It was then that she was struck by what she had assured him at the Well of Souls, moments before the place had come down crashing on them and forced Spyro to seal them into the crystal they spent three years in.

_'Friends…'_

_'I guess I am with one now.'_

Cynder hesitated for a moment, but then took in a shaky breath and let the words start coming out.

"It's just… I don't deserve this…this chance, all of this mercy. Not after all I've done, after all the destruction, the terror and…" she said, dreading to elaborate further.

She was in hesitant silence for a moment, but Spyro sensed that this was just the beginning, and simply waited for her to continue.

"A–and after you…saved me, I didn't want to face my past actions. I just couldn't stay there at the temple with you and the Guardians…especially not after all the unearned kindness you had treated me with. I never deserved it to begin with, and knowing that hurt me every passing day. So I ran away from my problems, like the _coward_ I am," the dragoness said, her voice laced with self-loathing.

"I ran and got caught like a helpless hatchling, and you went through all that trouble and danger just to… just to save me again. How can I live with that? How? I–I shouldn't be…" she whispered.

Spyro had listened to her, his expression turning sadder, but also gaining the look of understanding as the words slowly sunk in. He looked at her form, purple eyes slowly moving from emerald ones to the glossy, jet-black scales on her back, visible between her furled, crimson wings as he contemplated on what to do.

Then, after a momentary quiet, he went on an unexpected instinct.

He lifted his paw and softly rested it on the dragoness's sleek back. As he slowly relaxed his arm, the small, gradually increasing pressure made the paw's digits flex, and the movement slightly stroked the warm obsidian scales underneath.

He was in a dream-like state then, not quite realising what was happening or why he did it before it had already taken place. Somehow it just had felt like the right thing to do.

Spyro felt her going rigid from the sudden contact, and only then started to become sober from the mild trance. She was clearly not used to being touched, and was therefore uncomfortable, and it made the purple dragon immediately regret his action. It was much too late to reverse it now though, so he just suppressed his own cringe and waited for what was to come.

An eternity later – or that's how it seemed to him – he eventually felt her relax just a little, and he slowly let out the breath he unknowingly had been holding. Her tail tip twitched slightly and she still gave a faint shudder, tense from not being used to contact, but then Spyro's mind started working again and kicked in, saving the two from further awkwardness.

"Cynder, I have told you this many times and I'll say it again: _it wasn't you_," he said, voice comforting. "The monster who caused all that trouble and grief was never you. It was the Dark Master, using an unwitting victim as his tool of destruction. You never had a say in it; you were never given a chance." He looked away, face contorted in frustration as he sympathised with her predicament.

"As for you running away from the temple…that's part my fault too. I didn't consider your feelings carefully enough. I'm stupid not to have realised that you can't just happily _forget_ all that you were put through… After what you had to witness happening – by your own paws no less," he murmured, violet eyes full of sympathy. "But know that there was nothing you could've done, and that everyone knows this. The only one who still blames you is…you."

They held eye contact for a moment, Spyro's paw still resting on her back. The silence following his words was resounding and had a feel of finality to it.

She was forgiven.

Cynder seemed to temporarily lose her ability to speak, the words that wanted nothing more than to be let out getting stuck in her throat. Instead, a single tear came out of her emerald eye and dripped down her obsidian cheek.

She tried to blink it away on instinct, not wanting to appear weak. Even though on a conscious level, she knew that her efforts would be futile. She then swallowed and tried speaking again, and this time it worked.

"The memories… They are just too much. I've been trying to avoid thinking about the past, but doing that just makes me feel all the worse about it. Committing all of _that_ and then…just putting it past myself like it was nothing. _Nothing_ at all," she said hoarsely.

Frustration could no longer be heard in her voice; it seemed to have dulled and morphed into profound sadness. The mask on her expression that was anger had all but disappeared, making it easier for Spyro to decipher what she truly was feeling just by looking into her green eyes.

The reluctance and hesitation she was displaying also made it more than apparent that never before in her life had she really opened up to anyone. After all, it was hardly expectable that any of the apes, or the other creatures around her in her darker days would have been interested in her feelings, let alone think of the possibility that she even had any.

And finally, after Spyro had banished the corruption from within her, she had been swept and battered around by the flood of emotions that had stricken her, too confused and disoriented to make heads or tails about them, let alone talk to somebody about them.

"I…did bad things as the Terror of the Skies… As the general of…_his_ army. Things you don't know about, hopefully not at least, that I'll never be able to forgive myself for, no matter the circumstances. It…" she swallowed and continued with a shaky voice, "It was horrible. I think he even _enjoyed_ sending a puppet to do his disgusting work for him, relishing in the mere thought in some sick and twisted way."

"I think I know," Spyro said in his characteristic solemn tone, "and while I might not have had to go through the same pain myself, what really matters here is that I feel for you."

While he said this, the purple dragon almost unwittingly moved his paw in slight, stroking movements across the dragoness's back, as if to reassure her that this was indeed the case. He knew though that this wasn't the only reason behind his behaviour; the contact just felt _right_ for him, to the point of making him feel warm inside.

Spyro soon realized that this wasn't the moment to be thinking such trivial thoughts, and chided himself, shaking the feeling off. It still lingered in the background, but he managed to concentrate on the task at hand. He returned his gaze to her eyes, and waited for her to respond.

Cynder could remember almost everything from her past. She was a caring, empathic dragoness at heart, and sifting through her dark memories was like looking through a red-tinted lens. The edges of her past vision were foggy, as if in a metaphor of her clouded thoughts and the vagueness of the ultimate reasoning behind her tasks. She remembered her important missions such as capturing the Guardians and tortuously sapping their elemental powers with dark crystals in an effort to power the portal behind which the Dark Master had been sealed. However it was not these memories that she dreaded the most.

When the she and the army under her command weren't clashing with the Guardians' forces or meeting other significant resistance, they had free reign. No force was there to stop them as they plundered and pillaged, swiftly laying waste to weakly defended dragon settlements outside the safety of city walls. She sometimes, on her master's sadistic whim, partook in the action herself, and it was moments such as these that caused her the most mental agony as she, in retrospect, reflected on them.

"When the army and I…advanced to conquer important lands on our war campaign, there was this small village of dragons in our path, partly hidden by the landscape and the trees, and…" she had to pause to level her voice, "I remember _everything_ that happened."

"Their settlement was concealed quite well, but they were never prepared for being discovered by chance, and that's exactly what happened. We even caught them off guard at night, surrounding them from all sides – even the air – so most of them wouldn't be able to flee even if they tried. We brushed the village guards aside like reeds, and…made our way in. Every dragon was dealt with on sight, houses were set on fire…" she recounted with regret that her face too mirrored. Spyro almost thought he could see the inferno of the village blazing in her jade-green eyes.

The purple said nothing and simply waited for her to continue. He was still awkward and wary of doing something wrong, but on the other hand immersed in her story, listening intently.

"The apes took care of most opposition, so I was left with the _sweet_ job," she said with a snarl, as if baring her pearly-white teeth at the mental image of her master and oppressor, "I was to walk in the middle of the burning chaos and look for any survivors."

The black dragoness was visibly becoming sadder and her breathing shakier, and Spyro found himself tensing mentally in anticipation of what was to come.

"I finally spotted a lone house that had remained unnoticed, and entered it. There was– There was a–" she halted, not daring to say it out loud. She had to breathe in and out a few times before being able to continue.

"Apparently, her parents had gone out to defend the village and to steer away attention from the house. And when she saw me approaching in the darkness… Oh, Spyro," she said, her eyes starting to glisten.

"She only asked me if I was her mother. A–and then I…" Spyro didn't have to hear the rest.

And then the barriers came crashing down. The last standing pane of glass that was Cynder's façade _shattered_ as she drew in a gasp, and started crying inconsolably. Bitter tears escaped her scrunched eyes and cascaded down her cheeks, and she made an attempt to move away from Spyro, not wanting any comfort she didn't deserve.

The purple dragon, however, wouldn't let it happen.

He had let her slip into the portal of convexity before dragging her back. He had allowed to her run away from the temple, and he had witnessed her getting abducted from the ship Fellmuth by one of Gaul's dreadwings, but this time he wouldn't have any of that.

Spyro took his other paw and pulled Cynder into an embrace, holding her obsidian head against himself as he supportively, almost protectively wrapped his wings around the both of them.

She was visibly shocked, but only for a moment as the severity of her current state far overrode it. She then buried her face in the purple dragon's chest, her sobs getting muffled against golden scales.

They were like this for a while. The sobs slowly became less frequent as Cynder started to feel drained from her mental exertion, and eventually calmed down to the occasional sniff, as she contented herself with listening to the faint thumping in Spyro's chest that was his heartbeat. The light filtering into their room was slowly diminishing as the Warfang sky lost the last of its illuminating sunset hues.

"I'm scared… Scared that it'll happen again; that somehow he'll take control over me and–" she finally said between quiet sniffs, "and I don't want that! I don't want to be his slave anymore! I…"

Spyro furled his wings again, settling back into a more relaxed position, but still holding her in a comforting half-embrace with his other paw.

"You're a strong dragon, Cynder." he then said in a gentle tone, cutting into the silence. "Not many would be able to carry on after being put through all that, after having to witness everything with their own eyes and never being able to stop it."

"But I didn't even _want_ to stop it!" she whined, now with a quieter, more despondent voice. "I liked it, _enjoyed_ it even…" She shuddered and stared at the floor, too tired now to have any stronger feelings than just shame.

"That wouldn't have been the case if the real you had been strong enough to express itself. I know you, and what you really are like. I saw it in your eyes even before you were freed," Spyro said, getting her to crane her neck up and make eye contact with him, "That somewhere inside the grown dragon there was a youngling just like me, trapped and in need of help."

"The real you is caring, considerate, and more compassionate than anyone I know," he continued, noticing now how her emerald orbs seemed to bore into his very soul, as she was clinging to his every word, "and I'm…glad…to have you as a f-friend." he stuttered. For some reason he was now becoming nervous of her attentive gaze as her expression slowly changed from unbelieving to deeply grateful; he thought he even felt his back spines prickle a little in response.

However, what he said seemed to have worked. When Cynder bashfully looked down again, for the first time during their stay in the room he could see a faint smile starting to grace her features.

"That's…kind of you to say, Spyro… Thank you." she said at length, softly pressing her head back to his chest.

Spyro acutely became aware of the familiar scent he had breathed in for a while now: one he had associated with the black dragoness when they lived in the temple. There was something different about it now however ― a dimension he hadn't noticed before. It reminded him of the fruit and flora that grew in the swamp he had once called his home, and breathing it in gave him a wonderful feeling of contentment.

Both young dragons found comfort in the moment, and they secretly relished the contact, neither of them willing to move away just yet. For but a moment, every worry was reduced to a distant hum as all that existed was the calm and the solace of their companionship.

It had been a long day however, and Spyro could no longer repress a yawn. He still tried to stifle it, but it wouldn't escape Cynder's observant eyes.

She quickly collected her thoughts, and straightened her neck in a gesture that let Spyro understand to let go of his hold.

"We really should sleep. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, and I've been keeping you awake with my own–" she chattered nervously, but trailed off when she saw the purple dragon cast her a warning, slightly amused glance that seemed to say: _'Don't even think about it.'_

She smiled sheepishly and looked away with a blush. "Right," she whispered.

He smiled back at her, though his expression was still somewhat solemn at heart.

"You're probably right. It's better if we are well rested in the morning. There's a lot for us to do, after all…" he said and frowned. Now it was him who became disheartened as he started processing the coming challenges in his mind.

Cynder looked at him sympathetically, knowing better than anyone why his spirits had gone down. She wanted to cheer him up, and it was then that she hatched a plan.

Spyro didn't see the makings of the cunning smile on her slyly approaching face, but he did feel the warm, wet touch when Cynder gave his cheek a quick lick.

A shiver travelled down his spine in reaction, and his face went completely red as his body heated up under his amethyst scales.

"Good night, Spyro."

He swiveled his head to the side and saw that the black dragoness had already curled up with her back to him, so that he couldn't see her face, but he thought he heard a grin in her voice.

"...Good night, Cynder." he managed to reply at last, utterly clueless on what else to say in the situation.

And so, after recovering from the initial shock, he slowly laid his head down on his paws. All of his previous dark thoughts were gone from his mind, as it was instead occupied with the most recent turn of events and what it all had meant; just like she had intended.

The tiredness of the young dragons then finally got the better of them, and soon enough they had both fallen asleep, lying close to each other. They joined their dragonfly companion on his trip to the land of dreams, under the watchful eyes of the Ancestors, but blissfully unaware of what twists would await them the next day.


End file.
